A Different Kind of Light
by TheUn-POP-ableBubble
Summary: In times of anxiety, people do odd things. They pray, they hope, they lash out. The Uchiha family is about to learn that, sometimes, power isn't only used for battle. A sequel to The Haruchi Maki Chronicles.
1. Masaru

**Author's Note: Hey guys! So sorry I haven't been around lately but it's getting to be that crunch time in school where everyone's trying to cram in as much work as they can, but I know that's no excuse. And all I can do is apologize for that, and apologize in advance cuz it might be a while before I update again. One thing I'd like to know, is which story you guys are really waiting on cuz that way I can focus on a single thing and _maybe_ get some good writing done. Just pop me a message! Anyway, this is a sequel to The Haruchi Maki Chronicles, my personal favorite story of all my writing. Similar to how THMC was based on an original idea and odd belief of mine (connections becoming tangible and being empowered with influential energy), so too is this story based. The "belief" will again be about the power contained within all of us though this will be a personal power, not a collective one. This fic takes place 10 years after the last chapter of THMC and will be 5 chapters long. I hope you take the time to read it and find something to enjoy within these nearly-2000 words.**

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><p><strong>A Different Kind of Light: A Sequel to the Haruchi Maki Chronicles<strong>

_"Say you're sorry to your sister."_

_"No."_

_"Masaru."_

_"No!"_

_"Masaru Yosou Uchiha."_

_"Ah-ha-ha! Masa got middle-named!"_

_"Haruchi Maki Uchiha."_

_"Sorry, Mom."_

**Name: Masaru Yosou Uchiha**

It had been a full ten years since Masaru Uchiha had been chastised for stuffing sand down his sister's shirt. Those years had been good. Konoha was in better shape than ever, under the proud leadership of Hokage Naruto Uzumaki, flourishing with heaps of promise from the next generation.

Masaru was a prime example, a proud carrier of the Will of Fire. Lean and strong, Masaru stood tall at six feet – a carbon copy of his father when he had been young – and was still growing. Famously known for his skill and bearing threatening twin blades, it surprised many to discover that the youth carried an air of ease and comfort about him. He was kind and approachable, with an inviting aura and a maturity that exceeded his age. But once one disregarded the fact that he was a shinobi, it was easy to see that he was, still, just a boy.

"Masaru! Wait up a minute!"

Obedient to the voice's command, the sixteen year old turned over his shoulder to look down Konoha's busy roads, pausing in his purposeful stride towards home. Seeing that it was his older sister pursuing him, Masaru instinctively straightened his spine and lifted his chin, prominently displaying his family's crest on his strong back, seeping pride into the air around him. It was always important that people treat an Uchiha with the utmost respect, even if that person was another Uchiha – or so his father had always taught him.

Haruchi Uchiha often forgot to regard the lessons from their father.

Hunched over on her knees and breathing hard, Haruchi managed to a question in between undignified breaths, "Is – Is it true?"

Masaru couldn't be sure what she was talking about. He remained silent.

"Are you – actually – leaving to Rain?" Ah, he suspected she might have found out.

Nodding regally, Masaru replied, "I am."

His sister's face fell dramatically; Masaru thought she had always been incompetent at concealing her inner emotions, just like their mother. Invisibly, he braced himself for the inevitable argument about to occur – the one that _always _occurred whenever he received a mission that she wanted.

"But that's…" she began to mumble.

Jumping to cut her off, he tried to console her, "It's just a routine reconnaissance to make sure no one's stirring up Rain again. I don't know why you want to do it so badly, everyone says it's excruciatingly boring."

"I know, but that's not the point," breath finally regained, Haruchi stood upright. "The only reason the Rain mission exists is because of the Akatsuki; it's rooted in history. And it's only given to those the elder's and Hokage trust inexplicably."

Unconsciously caressing the metal plate on her left bicep, Masaru became momentarily distracted and took a moment to admire the engraved leaf insignia that lay there – a copy of the one sported on his forehead. The one she wore was technically Masaru's old headband – his first, really – as Haruchi had carelessly lost hers in a scuffle on her first C-rank mission. She was only a Genin then, barely out of the Academy, and she had been so upset when she got back. As her brother, it had been his duty to cheer her up. It looked like that was still the case.

"Haruchi -"

"I've been a Chunin for four years already, ever since I was thirteen." Her black eyes were shadowed by her olive bangs. "I passed the exams the very first time I entered – as a rookie, just like you. Every mission I've ever taken on has ended in absolute success, just like you. I'm an Uchiha, just. Like. You."

"Sis-"

"-Why are you more special than I am?"

Silence hung between the two siblings. While it was true that Haruchi gave no shame to the Uchiha name, it was Masaru who was the true prodigy of the family. He had passed the Chunin exams the same year that Haruchi had, having skipped a year of the Academy because of exponential talent. The family had been equally excited for both of them; and their face off in the final match of the third test had left the village talking for weeks.

Masaru had won.

Not easily of course – Haruchi rarely made anything easy for him. But he defeated her all the same. From then on, he seemed to keep beating her; excelling in complicated jutsu and receiving more challenging missions than she did. Within the year he was recommended to become Jounin. Out of consideration for Haruchi, he had declined. They had become Genin together – though they hadn't been on the same team – and they had been promoted to Chunin together. Masaru had wished to uphold the pattern. However, despite the technicality of his official rank, the village insisted on treating him according to his skills and he was constantly given missions far above his position. Haruchi often resented him for this.

Testing her current mood towards him, he asked, "Do you want me to decline the mission?"

Haruchi's eyes snapped to meet his, a hurt gaze turned sharp and angry. "No, that's not what I want!"

As much as she hurt, she did love Masaru with all her heart – she was proud to have such a good brother. Not just because he was talented or a little famous, but because he was her brother – he was Masa. And she _was_ excited for him that he was so trusted by the village but…

"What _do_ you want then?"

Seeming to think up of a compromise, Haruchi brightened as an idea came to her. "I want you to come with me on _my_ mission."

Masaru blinked a couple times to make sure she wasn't kidding. She didn't correct herself.

"You want me to what?"

"Come on my mission with me! It's only for a week and I was told to gather my own team as I saw fit. You and I alone would be more than enough to get the job done."

Masaru sighed and trapped a hand in his dark hair, mussing it up more than it already was.

"Oh, come on Masa!" Masaru's face twitched before he glared. He detested it when she called him that. "When was the last time we took a mission together? I'll tell you when, two and a half years ago! And it was a petty, little delivery mission that lasted a single weekend!"

"Haruchi, I've got the Rain reconnaissance mission to prep for."

"But that's six weeks away!"

"And I'm meant to be on leave until then! You know how important this mission is; I'm not supposed to do anything that could compromise me beforehand."

"You wouldn't be compromising anything of yourself! It's a simple, B-ranked, escort mission!"

"B-rank is not what I call uncompromising."

"What, you think you and I couldn't handle a couple of rouge Chunins on the road?"

Masaru scoffed and turned back towards home. It was his typical signal to Haruchi that he was annoyed with her. She couldn't just drag him into a mission whenever she damn well pleased. _Especially_ when he had just been gifted with a sign of absolute trust from the heads of the village – did she have any idea how long and hard he had worked to earn that trust? He hadn't gotten it by sneaking his siblings out on missions they were forbidden from accepting!

"It's rude to just walk away when someone's talking to you, Masa!"

He walked faster.

"Hey!"

Blocking his path Haruchi shot a glare up at him to be met with one just as fierce. It was times like these that she really hated the growth spurts he had undergone when they were both Genin. He had stood three inches taller than her when they first registered for the Chunin exams. Now, with her at five feet, three inches, it was just embarrassing how tall he was in comparison to her.

"I said no, Haruchi."

"No you didn't!" She grinned and her eyes gave off that funny sparkle, as if their bickering were her favorite sort of game. It probably was. "You _never_ said that!"

"I'm saying it _now_." He tried to walk around her but she blocked him off again. He tried to resist growling at her. He settled for the signature Uchiha scowl instead.

It was enough to get his message across as Haruchi sighed and dropped her playful ploy. She gave a sigh and started her apology, "I'm sorry, Masaru."

He snorted.

"I am!" He remained unconvinced.

"Look, I know how important your mission is and I don't blame you for being trusted with it; I would assign it to you too if I were in charge. It's just that whenever you're not on a mission, I am and when neither of us is out, Mom and Dad are so we're left to take care of everyone else! We haven't even trained together in months…" she dropped her gaze to their feet and began fiddling with her bangs – a clear sign that she was embarrassed. The not-Jounin-Chunin allowed his scowl to fade. Rarely was he truly upset with his sister. He knew that she only missed him and couldn't say it in so many words.

"I know you could easily be Jounin already and you're just waiting for me to catch up. But when you go and get assigned big missions like the Rain reconnaissance it just makes me feel like you're leaving me in the dust."

Masaru softened his posture. He loved Haruchi, he did. He never meant to make her feel like she wasn't cherished by him. But he knew that she had always had issues with him being the prodigy, especially since he was the younger of the two. Similar to their mother, Haruchi Uchiha faced problems concerning her confidence and self-esteem. Being the eldest, she always felt she should be protector of the family but often felt she wasn't strong enough for the job.

Sighing again, this time in resigned annoyance, Masaru grumbled, "Couldn't you have just said that you missed me?"

Haruchi punched his arm with a grin. "I'm too old to be that soft."

"Oh right, my mistake _big sis_. You've become so much shorter lately, I mistook you to be a teenager."

Haruchi punched him again. "So you'll come?"

"I'd be breaking a couple of laws. And oaths."

"Which will only be a problem if someone finds out!"

"What about Mom and Dad?"

"Have you told them about your mission?"

"Not yet."

"Then problem solved! In fact, problem nonexistent!"

Masaru grinned and shook his head in amusement. That's what Haruchi always said whenever they were about to cause mischief in their childhood. And he'd always reply with…

"I blame you if anything goes wrong."

Haruchi cackled a little. "Bring it on, little brother."

Masaru grudgingly let her ruffle his hair and made a show of walking past her again, though this time he kept a leisurely pace to allow her to walk by his side. This is how they'd always been and, secretly, it's how he hoped they always would be.

"Now," his sister said coyly, looping an arm through his, "Inoko said you were in the shop yesterday buying flowers. Were they, perhaps, a gift for a recently-promoted Miso Uzumaki?"

Scoffing, Masaru looked away but wasn't able to battle away the blush before his sister caught it. She erupted into a fit of giggles and he tried his best to ignore her – and the rest of her prodding, _personal_ questions – until they arrived home and informed their parents of their mission. As soon as they were given permission to pack, Haruchi returned to her interrogation with a vengeance. Masaru silently prayed for patience.

Just what had he signed up for?

**Current Status: Adventuring**


	2. Haruchi

**Author's Note: Speedy. I know, eh? **

**Disclaimer: Applies as per usual. Meaning I own nothing of the anime, manga, or world of Naruto (Shippuden or otherwise). Though, it's surprising how much of the story I DO own: original characters, plotline... stuff like that.**

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><p><strong>Name: Haruchi Maki Uchiha<strong>

If asked, Sakura Uchiha – formerly Haruno – would say the hospital was where she was most in her element. Healing, she was sure, was her vocation. And even though she loathed the smell of _antiseptic__blood__**death**_dis_ease_, and cringed at the screaming of a resistant patient, and the shake in her hands after any surgery took _days _to stop; Sakura felt very much in control at the hospital. She was confident in her medical ability, full of determination to succeed, detailed in analysis, and stayed smart in any situation._ She_ was finally the one people turned to. _She_ was the one who kept a level head, who stayed focused on healing, who could will miracles to happen with her bare hands. She was proud; and even though she was in her thirties, she was strong.

But suddenly she wasn't.

Within_ nano_seconds she had reverted back to the Sakura who was weak – who was only twelve years old and not good enough, not strong enough, not _pretty_smart**confident**useful_old _enough. And it was all because of two simple words:

"Masaru's dying!"

She didn't hear it at the time, but whoever next returned to Uchiha home would discover a shattered plate decorating the kitchen floor and see poor, still-so-young Kona trying to pick up the pieces with bloody fingers.

Sakura supposed that the hospital had felt like a sanctuary to her. It was the first place where she felt recognized for her own skills, and very rarely did anything happen that she couldn't magically mend. But that's not what she felt then. There, pacing in front of the operating window after sending Haruchi and the foreign-looking woman who was with her to be looked after, she felt utterly lost; as if trapped inside a white, white maze and she had to go in two directions to make it out. Like she'd have to burst out of her own skin in order to survive.

Sasuke and Naruto both met her there at the hospital, outside the operating room, ten minutes later. Sakura distantly recalled that they had been holding a paired training session with their respective Genin teams that day. Her heart sunk with guilt as she recalled that they had been planning to do that for weeks but all of that was forgotten when Sasuke caught her in his arms.

Naruto subtly moved closer to the window, keeping an eye out for alarm and allowing the couple to have some semi-privacy. The blonde's eyes narrowed at the awful sight in the room; Masaru was tied down to a table with restraints, his marked up body automatically thrashing about despite whatever drug the medics had sedated him with. Whatever trick or poison the enemy had hit him with looked nasty and Naruto had a hard time watching the medics rush around and poke and prod at his godchild. Naruto clenched his fist and thumped the glass. This shouldn't have happened! Masaru wasn't supposed to leave on any kind of mission until Rain! Naruto mentally chastised himself. He was Hokage now, and he was expected to know his shinobi better than anyone. It shouldn't have happened because he should have foreseen the two of them sneaking off. Naruto bowed his head in shame. Patience was to be repentance for his foolishness and he never took waiting well.

Neither did the other two, for that matter.

"Sasuke, I don't know what's going on," Sakura whimpered, her voice thick with tears. It was only then that Sasuke became aware how truly frightened she was – and how quickly his own fear was growing.

"Shhh, Sakura," he cooed while stroking her hair, keeping her close, "he's going to be fine. It'll be alright."

"I don't even know what's wrong with him! Haruchi just came home covered in blood and said he was in critical condition and they won't let me in to see him and –! God, I'm just so scared, Sasuke! That's my baby in there! That's our son!"

Sasuke held her tighter and rubbed her back. "It's okay, he'll be okay."

"You don't know that. How can you _know_ that?"

"He's got no choice – as you said, he's our son. He's strong, he's an Uchiha, and he's resilient. He'll be _okay_." The stressed conviction in his voice was to reassure both of them.

If Sakura had the heart, she would have laughed. Instead, she let the pause hang in the air for a few moments, trying very hard to let go of her fears and control her tears. They weren't helping anyone. Sighing shakily, Sakura quietly retorted, "…He gets that from you, y'know."

Sasuke scoffed a laugh and Sakura tried to give a shy giggle but their mirth didn't last long. How could it? Instead, they stayed like that: holding each other tightly, involved in a slight but comfortable rocking motion. Almost like they were dancing. Sakura bit back tears when she memories of teaching Masaru to dance, flashing through her mind's eye.

Fifteen minutes later and the old Team 7 was still waiting to hear of Masaru's condition when the eldest of the Uchiha spawn burst through the door – wrapped head to toe in bandages, blood rusted in her olive green hair. Her coal black orbs took little time in assessing everyone's presence before moving to join her godfather at the window. Her mother had other thoughts.

"Haruchi!" Sakura exclaimed, folding out of Sasuke's arms to fret over her daughter, "you shouldn't be here, your wounds are still fresh!" Being a mother, she poked a few – just to prove her point.

Haruchi, undistracted, roughly shoved her off, only for her father to frown and warn, "Haruchi."

Glaring, Haruchi snapped, "Mom, Dad, they're nothing that won't heal._ I'm_ fine."

Not like Masaru.

Masaru; who was her brother, and her best friend, and dying in the room before them. Masaru; who had been _her_ responsibility. Masaru; who hadn't even wanted to risk the mission. Masaru; who may not ever treat her to ice cream anymore, or tease her about still liking swings, or lean his arm on her head because they were each at the perfect height to do so.

'_No,_' Haruchi thought, minutely wincing from the light burn of rubbing alcohol applied to the wounds beneath her clean bandages. '_Not like Masaru at all._'

Haruchi Uchiha, unlike her mother, felt her calling to the politics of the ninja world. She enjoyed debating with authoritative people, bartering in negotiations, being involved in missions that upheld good alliances. That's why she enjoyed escort missions most of all. She had inherited her mother's intelligence and wit, which made her good company for diplomats, feudal lords, and international ambassadors. Many customers gave the Leaf Village excellent feedback, saying they were most pleased with the selected company and would do business with the Leaf again. Naruto always made sure to show Haruchi every letter of that kind and give her an extra bit of pay for her extra effort (though, he suspected that the proof of the letter was more rewarding to her than the money ever was). And even if her escort did not hold one of those professions, she continued to be fascinated with any outsider's lifestyle from their homeland: fishermen, carpenters, farmers, merchants, monks, travelers, bookkeepers, collectors… Haruchi had conversed with every one of them and enjoyed it. Haruchi was one who was eager to learn – she found any topic interesting. She had been particularly enraptured with travel tales from Ishi, the jeweler she and Masaru were escorting to the next village along with all her expensive, hand-crafted merchandise.

Which was why she had been distracted, and hadn't noticed the chance ambush ahead.

Which was why she hadn't been prepared to dodge the first jutsu.

Which was why Masaru had jumped in front.

Which was why he stumbled and limped throughout the rest of the scuffle.

Which was why she had to attempt to cover all three of them.

Which was why they all – escort included – received cuts, wounds and bruises.

But Masaru was hit with something else. Something Haruchi didn't recognize. It happened as soon as he took down the last of the rouges. The ninja was falling when a seal appeared on his body and that seal jumped straight on to Masaru's skin – making him scream and writhe and collapse into an unconscious fit. Haruchi had had to drag him and the escort back – she didn't trust anyone but the Konoha medics to solve what was now wrong with her brother.

As if attuned to her thoughts, Sasuke remained quiet but kept a steady, watchful eye on his girl; trying to read from her agonized eyes what exactly had happened.

Sakura was not so perceptive and decided to fight her daughter's attitude. It was similar to her own temper after all. "Yes," she fretted, like a medic-mother would be expected to, "but they _won't_ heal if you keep running around! You've only just been bandaged – you should at least be staying still right now, sitting or laying down."

"So should you," Haruchi snapped, very much a rebellious teenager, righteous in anger and fear and _guilt,_ "in fact, _especially _you. You're the biggest wreck of any of us!"

"Haruchi, please -"

"I'm fine, _mother_!"

Sakura drew back a little. Haruchi only called her 'mother' when she was excessively emotional, whether she was angry, annoyed, sad, worried, or relieved. And since the girl was as proud as her father, she didn't become emotional often.

"Haruchi," Sakura tried, tone soothing instead of scolding, trying to coax her daughter away from the window, "I know you're worried for him, but you're not doing your brother any favours by injuring yourself further."

Reluctantly, Haruchi met her mother's eyes. Sakura was looking at her just like she used to, when Haruchi had needed her mother to reassure her that '_No__, her favorite-teddy-bear Pucho had __not__ been trying to run away' _when, night after night, she awoke to find him on the floor instead of the bed. The fear imbedded in that memory watered her dark eyes and drove the not-quite-an-adult-yet in to her mother's arms.

Still stuck in those long-gone mornings of small depression, Haruchi cried, "Mom, why is Masaru running away?"

Recognizing the old question straight away, Sakura smoothed green hair and replied, "He's not running away. He's just having a little trouble finding a way back to you in the dark."

Haruchi sniffed loudly. She hadn't wanted to start crying. But she hadn't wanted Masaru to take a blow for her either, and that didn't stop it from happening.

It was hours before they were allowed to see him.

The procedure was unbearably long and they had caught it near the beginning. The four of them had watched – lovingly, painfully – as others worked at making his body stable; watching until the end when he was removed from their sight and escorted into a private room.

The most frightening part had come somewhere in the middle; when he had woken up. No doubt under the combined influence of the sedative and infection and whatever else was invading his system, Masaru Uchiha became delusional and had screamed, yelled, and fought as desperately as he could, calling out the whole time to stop cutting into his eyes – swearing that he hadn't inherited the Uchiha bloodline, screaming to leave his family unharmed, pleading for mercy, for humanity, for _death_. Though, it was only afterwards that her husband told her so; Sakura had pulled Haruchi out of the room when Masaru first opened panicked eyes, knowing that Haruchi would never forgive herself for this suffering of her brother if she witnessed it.

His muffled, unintelligible screams though the door in the hallway were enough to frighten them anyway.

When the medics had made him as comfortable as possible, there had been issues with medical attendance. Standard procedures called to have a medic on watch and available if anything were to change in the patient's condition. It took nearly a half hour's discussion to convince the staff that Sakura would suffice as a capable watch.

_("You don't understand, Mrs. Uchiha -"_

"_The toxins we found infecting his system -"_

"_-know very well what I'm talking about!"_

"_And the stress of the sealing jutsu -"_

"_-incredible levels. We were lucky to -"_

"_-we can't -"_

"_I beg your pardon!"_

"_-affecting nearly all his organs -"_

"_-could still be damaged further."_

"_We're not sure what we're dealing with!"_

"_I have every right!"_

"_-needs to be under careful watch -"_

"_-still in critical condition -"_

"_-could change at any moment -"_

"_-think I don't know that-"_

"_He still might not make it -")_

But finally, with much reluctance and multiple warnings to not try rousing or disturbing him in any way, the medics left and the family entered the room.

What most surprised them upon their entrance were not the now-looser-but-still-there restraints on Masaru, nor the number of machines and monitors he was hooked up to. It wasn't how pale his face was, or how strained his veins were, or how his hands kept clenching and unclenching at random intervals. What surprised them most was the woman already at his bedside, caressing one of his tense hands and humming a rhythmic lullaby.

Practically a mirror image of the Uchihas' first daughter, Haruchi Maki greeted the family with a gentle smile.

"Hello, Sakura, Sasuke, Naruto," her smile grew somewhat before she addressed the fourth member of their party, "Haruchi."

Pleasantly stunned by her sudden presence, the old Team 7 felt their anxiety relax at the sight of her familiar face. The youngest of the group, was not so eased; her tension increasing at the sight of a woman who was allowed by Masaru's side even before family members.

"Hey Haruchi," Naruto responded, looking her over and giving a grin to match hers, not noticing the way the young girl's shoulders tensed from hearing the friendly familiarity in the Hokage's voice. "You look way older from before. Long time, no see, huh?"

She closed her eyes in a sweet, sweet smile. "Oh, but I've been around. Haven't you noticed?"

They had. Ever since their encounter eleven and a half years ago, Sasuke, Sakura, and Naruto had always kept an unconscious eye out for positive, unusual happenings. And they had happened - frequently. Though, no one wanted to say so, not when things were so obviously _not_ positive now.

'_But that's why she's here, isn't it?_' Sasuke thought, Sakura hoped, Naruto concluded. '_She's here to make everything right again. Like the last time.'_

"Hold on!"

The indignant cry made Haruchi drop her smile and open her eyes to meet her carbon copy. It was odd, really. To see one's younger self standing in front of you and yet, knowing that they were, in fact, _not_ you. It felt like parallel universes had collided. As bizarre as the same genetic material combining the same way to create genetic twins who are born years apart.

As impossible as the laws of reality being bent (again).

"Who the hell do you think you are?" the spitfire Uchiha seethed, insulted that this stranger had been allowed so close to her brother before she had – a stranger who looked so much like her that it was beyond abnormal.

Protests and scoldings danced on Sakura's tongue but the Maki held up a hand to silence them. She would handle her creation on her own.

"If you're inquiring about my name, I bet you can guess what it might be." A calm expression was worn on her face, but the former members of Team 7 could see the sparkle in her eyes – she was playing a game of sorts, in her own unique way.

Haruchi Uchiha, however, was not willing to play. She didn't reply verbally, the glare still hot on her face.

"Oh, come now," Haruchi Maki coaxed in a polite voice of condescending, "it can't really be that difficult."

The young girl narrowed her dark, dark eyes; analytical, suspicious. Finally she spoke, "You're Haruchi Maki. You're the one I was named after." _'You saved my parents,'_ Haruchi thought but refused to say. _'They told me stories about you, how you were their saving grace and hoped that I would be too. You're the reason I'm standing here now, the reason I exist.'_

Haruchi Maki winked. "That's correct."

Haruchi Uchiha tried not to feel like she had just been mocked. "Why are you here?"

"I would have thought the answer obvious," Haruchi turned her gaze towards Masaru, reaching a hand out to sweep aside some sweaty bangs despite a cry of "Don't you _dare_!"

Haruchi Maki then addressed the entire group, "I'm here to help."

"And what can _you_ do that the medics haven't tried already?" Her temper lost, she continued her seething outburst, "What special powers do _you _possess to make this all okay?" And then she turned on her parents, who had done _nothing_ to make anything better, "Why are _you_ acting like everything is okay now? Masaru is still unconscious! He's _not_ waking up! He's _not_ better! What can _she_ possibly do to change _that_?"

Her father had often warned her as a child, that anger was a dangerous thing. Anger made you strong – temporarily – but it also made you terrible, irrational. It took away your morals and your values, drove you away from things that were precious. So Haruchi had tried, _really_ tried, to hone her anger and show her father that she was controlled, that she wasn't a terrible child. But try as she might, Haruchi could never handle her anger well.

Haruchi Uchiha was a terrible person. And the proof was lying unconscious on the hospital bed in front of her.

**Current Status: Broken**

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><p><strong>Author's Note: And now it's all set up! The 'belief' that is this story's foundation will be first introduced next chapter! (Only 3 of 'em left!)<strong>


	3. Itachi

**Author's Note: FINALLY DONE! Though, I've gotta warn you: NEVER, I mean NEVER, give two different characters the same name. It's HELL to keep differentiating between the two when they're in a scene together - literally EXHAUSTING. -.-; Also, I lied. There will be 6 chappies, not 5 (I figure the 6th will be a short epilogue.)**

**Hope you read and enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Name: Itachi Saiai Uchiha<strong>

It hadn't taken long to calm Haruchi down from her mini-tantrum. After she had finished yelling, her breath became heavy with sobs and both her parents sat her on the couch in the room; huddling her between them like they used to when she was young and fearful of the night, soothing her with whispered words and rhythmic motions. Naruto, feeling a little displaced, had silently slipped out of the room, intending to let Hinata, his wife, know what had happened and fetch the rest of the Uchiha family.

He returned very quickly, flocking a pair of twin brothers in front of him, guiding the two youngest Uchihas into the hospital room.

"Mom! Dad!" Itachi and Takamaru Uchiha unanimously called out, running to embrace their parents – Itachi to Sakura, Takamaru to Sasuke. Then, as was their trademark custom, they switched.

Sakura – noting that Itachi was embracing his father but tenderly asking why his sister was crying – took time to indulge in a long hug from her very youngest son and pulled him close to her to make it last, burying her face in his deep red hair. Of their five children, Takamaru had the most unique features: his eyes and hair dark enough to be mistaken for black but were actually a deep emerald and dark maroon. Itachi, his fraternal twin, was the plainest looking of the children: his eyes and hair a shade of ashy black instead of the onyx that the older three possessed.

Looking around for the spot of pink that proved her recessive genes weren't entirely hopeless, Sakura was surprised to find it absent. She gave the room a second scan and confirmed her earlier thought: only four of her children were in the room.

"Naruto," she asked, mindful of Takamaru shifting in her lap so he could see Masaru better, "where's Kona?"

Naruto gave her a sympathetic look and lightly shook his head. "She didn't want to come."

Sakura's expression fell and she gave her son another squeeze. She should have guessed that Kona wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere near the hospital…

Pulling her from her thoughts about her daughter, Takamaru asked the room, "What's wrong with Masaru?"

"He was hurt on my mission," Haruchi's voice answered, but everyone shivered at the chill present in her words. They were cold and taut, like an elastic band stretched in a freezer. Easy to snap; easy to break.

Sakura gave her daughter a sympathetic look; Haruchi hadn't told anyone what had happened on the mission yet, but Sakura now grew concerned that her daughter believed Masaru's injuries to be a result of her actions.

Running a hand through her worried son's hair, Sakura reassured all her children, "Don't worry, the medics have removed most of the problems and he hasn't received any major sustaining injuries from whatever the seal was. Masaru is just resting off the exhaustion from the procedure."

"That doesn't mean he's safe though, does it?" Haruchi spat, still too emotional and worn to keep her temper under control even with little Itachi – who often affectionately referred to her as his '-chi' twin –nestled in her lap, "The medics said he was still in danger. His body's so worn down by his wounds and the stress of undergoing extraction that it's having trouble healing itself. His body might just shut down if it can't handle all the stress it's gone through! Masaru – Masa might not -"

Poking her forehead again, Sasuke sternly argued, "He will, Haruchi. Masaru is an Uchiha, like the rest of us."

Sakura held back a gasp as a sudden pressure fell on her chest. Looking down, she realized that Takamaru had curled up and buried himself away, his face hiding in her shirt, avoiding everyone else in the room. Before she could wonder why or what had prompted such timid actions, Itachi quickly cut in a question of his own.

"Who's the lady that looks like Haruchi?" Looking now to Itachi, Sakura noticed that his pale eyes were not looking at the woman in question, nor were they looking towards his father in curiosity as he often did when he wanted answers. Rather, his eyes were locked on Takamaru, who had suddenly gone pale and stiff. Itachi was not far behind him, the healthy flush draining from his face. Sakura furrowed her brow, her brain puzzling as to what had so badly spooked her youngest children.

Haruchi Maki, who had also taken note of the twins' anxiety, trained her eye on Itachi who hesitantly looked to her as she explained, "My name is Haruchi Maki, like your sister. I'm here because I want to help your brother recover."

"Recover?" Haruchi Uchiha challenged, all eyes once more on her. "I doubt anything you did would help him at all."

"Then you'd be right. There's actually very little that _I _can do for Masaru's condition. But what if _you_ could still help?"

The young Haruchi's eyes grew sharp, dry and focused; her breathing slowing but becoming steadier. Her full attention was certainly caught.

"The hell?" It wasn't really a question.

"I spoke the truth earlier; I am here to help, but I can only write out the prescription. You and your family will have to obtain and use the remedy."

"That's impossible; mother is the only one of us who knows any medical ninjutsu."

Haruchi gave a patient smile. "What I am suggesting does not require either medical training or experience. You could pull a civilian off the streets and they'd be qualified to do it."

Little Haruchi slowly thought it over. Was there really something she could do to make this all okay? But how credible was this woman's prescribed solution anyway? If just anyone could do it, how effective could it really be?

"Even I could do it?" A curious voice interrupted.

The Maki shot Itachi a bright smile. "Of course you could."

"And _what_ exactly would he be _doing_?"

The Haruchis stared each other down. Neither relented, even when Haruchi went on to explain, "When ninjas train and fight their primary source of energy is chakra – the fusing of physical and spiritual energy. But there is another energy present in the body. Very few are ever aware of its tangible presence and even fewer know of its power. The few who can _see_ it often describe it as a person's 'Light' or 'Aura' but the truest name of this energy, is 'Thought'."

Haruchi Uchiha glanced at the others in the room and was bitter to discover that they were all listening with great attention, not even a trace of skepticism on their faces. Even her father, who was known to trust very hesitantly, seemed completely enraptured with what the other Haruchi was telling them. Itachi, still bundled in her arms which were being tickled by his long bangs, was similarly hypnotized_ – _as he was prone to becoming when told small stories. But even during the enchantment, Itachi eyes flickered to his twin with every movement his brother made.

True to his name-sake, Itachi Uchiha (Jr.) possessed unusually sensitive reflexes and observational talents, especially for his young age. His parents knew his skills were so advanced partly because he had inherited the Sharingan when he was six, beating Masaru's record by a small handful of months. But he was also naturally talented in numerous shinobi skills, tracking and strategy among his most impressive. He had advanced years ahead in the Academy, eagerly waiting for his twin brother – his best friend – to inherit the family bloodline so they could train on equal footing. When they were younger, the two could not be separated without creating a fuss until they were together again. Traces of their will to be close continued in their behavior, even as they grew ever older. But until Takamaru caught up, it was pointless for Itachi to train with him. So the older twin had sparred with his other brother – the first prodigy of the family. It was no secret that Itachi was at least chunin level by now, mostly thanks to Masaru's supportive training. Thanks to him, he was ready to lead a team in a mission outside village borders – ready to become a leader.

'_But I'm not done,_' Itachi thought in the privacy of his mind, '_I can't be done; I'm not as strong as Masaru, yet._' Masaru who he loved and who was his eternal rival and his goal and his _brother_; above all other things, he was his _brother_. Seeing the brother he so strongly admired lying – _weak, broken, beaten_ – in a hospital bed, Itachi hardened his recently-made resolve: Masaru would _not_ die here. There were still things his brother had promised to teach him and Itachi intended to make his brother proud – was certain that he still would.

"The power of Thought is used by harnessing one's deepest wishes and projecting them into reality. Some have called this 'prayer', others 'the way of the universe'," Haruchi explained. "Now, while any person can send out any Thought, it is easier and more effective to do so if their wish is aligned with their Thought's 'colour'. The colour of a Thought can represent certain characteristics of the person who holds it or the nature of their deepest wish or a combination of both. Of course, no one wishes for one single thing every moment of their life so the colour is not always stable; the colour of your Thought may change throughout your lifetime – from moment to moment for some."

"So," Sakura chimed in, "what we have to do, is send Masaru all of our wishes for his recovery?"

Haruchi nodded. "But healing must be one of your deepest wishes, or it will do very little for him."

"Will he be able to accept them?" Naruto asked.

"Thought cannot be blocked, as it carries one of the truest parts of our essence. Masaru will receive you, if you offer yourselves."

"But how will we know that our Thoughts have reached him?" a slightly less skeptic and slightly more hopeful Haruchi inquired. "How do we know if our colours are right?"

Haruchi said nothing and instead looked to Takamaru. Shrinking under her gaze, Takamaru didn't realize that Itachi was straightening, his mouth dropping in an 'o' of wonderment and sudden understanding. Sasuke, however, _did _realize.

"Itachi?"

Ignoring his father, Itachi excitedly clambered out of Haruchi's lap to reach his twin, still cuddled in Sakura's. "Taka! Taka! Taka! That's it!" he cheered.

"What's it?" everyone but the Maki asked. Takamaru hid his eyes underneath his bangs but Itachi only shook his arm and continued to bounce with excitement.

"Taka! Don't you get it? It makes_ sense_ now! _That's _what you've been seeing!" Shocked, everyone looked at Takamaru in the same instant, the boy shrinking down even further because of the uncomfortable amount of attention.

**Current Status: Enlightened**


	4. Takamaru

**Author's Note: Two more chapters to go after this! Can't be sure when I'll update again. Hope you enjoy this! Takamaru fast became my favourite of the kids... Who's been your favourite so far?**

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><p><strong>Name: Takamaru Hisaki Uchiha<strong>

"You can see it?"

Takamaru had never felt more exposed. Terribly frightened, he introverted even further and tried to focus on breathing properly underneath all the pressure, all the while replaying the memory of a lecture he and Itachi had once received from their father.

'_An Uchiha is powerful, because with power, we can protect our loved ones.'_

"He's been seeing _some_thing weird; he told me so himself! Tell them, Taka!"

'_And an Uchiha is proud, because with pride, we love our protected ones.'_

"Taka! Taka? Come on. Tell them what you see…"

'_Our source of power and of pride, is the Sharingan.'_

"Takamaru? Honey, what's wrong?"

'_That's what the circle of the Sharingan represents, our everlasting cycle of love for each other; a love that burns most brightly in the protection of those we love, and most subtly in our pride for one another. The Sharingan is a gift, meant to be used as an expression of love for those you want to protect, and of respect for those whom you are proud to know.'_

"Takamaru."

Takamaru startled. In the years between his memory and the present, his father's voice still carried that solid tone, the one that insisted on attention because it only ever said something that was important. Timid, watery eyes rose to meet steady – but concerned – ones. Sasuke had moved from his seat to kneel in front of his son. He had never seen him look so worried before.

"Son," Sasuke began again, "what are you afraid of?"

Takamaru lightly shook his head in a weak denial of his fear, careful not to break contact with his father's firm gaze. Sakura, still cocooning him in her arms, moved her head to peer at Takamaru from an angle, as if it would help her see what Sasuke seemed to be searching for – what Sasuke knew to be there.

Very shakily, Takamaru took down his meant-to-be-strong face and opened his mouth as fat, warm tears began dripping down his cheeks. "I don't know what's wrong with me," he confessed.

"_Wrong_ with you?" It was clear he had alarmed his mother and he would have liked to curl into her and take back his words – if only to make her feel better – but he couldn't. His father was still staring at him. Now that he had come out and said it, he needed to prove himself. Or at least try.

"I don't mean to see them," the boy insisted, shaking his head as though it could prove his innocence. He didn't see them on purpose, didn't ever _want_ to see them, and he _didn't_ mean to shame his family. He _never meant to defect_ from the Uchiha. He wasn't at fault! "I don't!" He repeated, trying to pour the same power into those words as he heard his family pour into their jutsu. He wasn't sure if it worked or not.

"See what?" His sister prodded. "What do you see, Tak?"

They didn't believe him. _Gods_, they didn't believe him. That's it. He was done. There was no hope for him now. He was a defection, a mistake, an accident, a _freak._ And they were all disgusted to even _know_him.

Defeated and sad, Takamaru choked on his tears as he finally confessed the visions he was prone to: "The colors."

His eyes frantically searched the room, determined in their mission to avoid meeting anyone's eyes or clothes or hair or… well, just trying to avoid anyone's anything. Only the presence of those who weren't Uchihas were able to calm him any. Maybe Uncle Naruto or the Haruchi lady would offer him a home now that his family had found out he didn't belong to them, that he wasn't one of them. Surely, not being an Uchiha made very little difference to those who also weren't Uchiha?

"You can see them?" Sakura asked. Takamaru sniffed loudly and hid behind his unruly hair; she was the one he least wanted to leave. What son could ever bear to be torn away from his loving mother? "For how long, sweetheart?" She was using her nursing voice – the one used to calm both the patient and herself. She used to sing to him with that voice too…

He took a shuddering breath and tried to answer her, but all that came out were blubbering sobs and stuttering apologies. "I'm sorry! I-I-I-I didn't _mean_ to! It just-just… Tachi was… was trying to show me how-how to do it an-and I… "

"Takamaru." His father's voice still hadn't changed. It still demanded Takamaru's attention.

Looking up, the boy cried out, his puffy, stinging eyes meeting the hypnotic gaze of his father's Sharingan – the pride and love of everything that was Uchiha. "Takamaru," Sasuke repeated, using the simple mantra to draw his son into a state of calm and comfort. Sasuke had often had to do this for his youngest child because he was as emotional as his mother; the family had learned swiftly that Takamaru was impossible to settle once he got into a tantrum or fit. Luckily, even Uchiha weren't immune to the powers of their genetic legacy – sometimes Sasuke wondered how (or _if_) he would have survived parenting so many children if he hadn't been gifted with the Sharingan. He and Sakura would have lost at least twice as much sleep when all of them were infants, at the very least.

His son's breathing even now, his deep green eyes almost glazed over, Takamaru became much more relaxed. No longer afraid of upsetting his son, Sasuke asked him, "What was Itachi trying to teach you?"

"The Sharingan," Takamaru replied, startling everyone in the room. Only Sasuke kept his surprise concealed, striving to maintain direct eye-contact.

"Could you activate it?"

Takamaru's head slowly shook, his eyes again refusing to tear away from his fathers'.

"What happened when you tried?"

"I saw the colours."

Sasuke ignored the concerned looks from his wife. He knew she desperately wanted him to share her worry – and he did – but he couldn't afford to let that worry show. Not right now.

"Show me."

Slowly but without hesitation, Takamaru allowed his eyes to close and his hands to rise, pressing them together in the concentrated seal of the ram. When his eyes next opened, everyone present was astonished to see them turned into a bright green – the exact shade, in fact, of Sakura's own eyes – with shimmering silver flecks that flickered like stars around the irises. Those eyes then began to slowly tear, wetting with a deep, deep shame.

"I'm sorry," Takamaru whispered. "I've tried so many times, Dad. To get the Sharingan instead. But this is all I can do. This is all that happens no matter what I try."

"Shh," Sasuke cooed, gently tugging a calming hand through deep red hair. "It's alright. I'm not upset. None of us are."

Takamaru began to hiccup lightly but Sasuke and Sakura made sure to still his cries with comforting embraces and soothing words. Soon, Haruchi and Itachi joined in on the coddling and Sasuke needed to focus less and less about keeping his youngest calm. Within minutes, Sasuke completely deactivated his hypnotic talent, Takamaru being completely calmed and skittish no longer. His eyes remained bright green and his body remained comfortable in his mother's arms. Reassured of the love of his family, he was no longer afraid.

Coming back to face the original problem, Sakura turned to the older Haruchi. "Now what?"

Haruchi smiled kindly at mother and son. "Now we find the proper light – the proper talent."

Almost proudly, Sakura ran a hand up and down Takamaru's arm. Already there was hope anew. "How will we know which one will heal Masaru?"

"I possess that knowledge – I know what young Takamaru will have to find." Black orbs – not unlike those in his family – turned to the boy with a special sparkle to them. They were encouraging but also secretive. He understood that the only help he would receive was afterward instruction and not before his task was set. If he were to guess, it was a test. Or, rather, a sort of assistance; something to ease the exposure of his powers and help him and his family adjust to them accordingly.

Takamaru thought this Haruchi to be very wise.

Taking in a deep breath, Takamaru lightly braced himself and tried to first explain what it was he was seeing, "It's like… there's a sort of path inside of everyone. It goes all around their bodies and the thing that travels through it, starts as a fire near their heart." He pointed to his own chest in demonstration.

"And the 'fires' are different colours?" His sister asked.

Takamaru nodded. "Everyone has one, even the people who aren't shinobi. Your fire, nee-san, is blue."

Haruchi raised a curious eyebrow. "Blue?"

He nodded again. "Like the ocean in summer, it's bright. Father's is blue too, but his is more like the sky. It's lighter than yours." Sasuke seemed surprised and spared a glance to his eldest child. Haruchi was slowly smiling, as if her brother's comment were some sort of praise. It was no secret she aspired to be more like their father.

"That's no surprise," spoke up the older Haruchi. "The blue represents a will of protection and safety. Both of you have honed very powerful protective instincts." She, too, made it sound like praise.

"We're protective by nature?" The younger Haruchi sought to clarify.

"Your Thought is the deepest wish your person would cast on those who are closest to you. Our Thought is only ever something we can project onto others but, at the same time, if it is steady and constant enough, our Thought influences us as well. Blue is a very caring Thought but can be surprising fragile when distracted by grief or worry." At the girl's crestfallen look towards her brother, the woman gave a small smile and continued, "The lighter the blue becomes, the stronger the barrier resists negativity. The darkest, and weakest, of the blues is nearly as dark as the night sky – barely distinguishable from black. The lightest and strongest blue is that of the noon sky – the same as your Father apparently possesses and the one you are well on your way to acquiring."

Allowing the girl to simmer in that thought, Haruchi turned her attention back to the youngest Uchiha sibling, "Unfortunately, blue of any shade is not the colour that will save Masaru. What else do you see Takamaru?"

Pointing to her, Takamaru replied, "Yours is black."

She nodded in understanding. "The colour of direction and guidance, for it is in the dark where all will find their true selves. But that is not it either."

"What about me, Takamaru?" Sakura asked.

Looking up to meet her eyes with his, he answered, "It's green. Like when you heal someone when they get cut."

"A wish of good luck and fortune," Haruchi supplied, shooting a sideways glare towards two men. "It is commonly found in people who are often left behind by those they care for, whether for travel or for less savory reasons." Naruto and Sasuke were careful to avoid looking at anything but the floor. Sakura also looked towards the floor, heart slightly pained both by ugly memories and the fact that she still could not help her wounded son.

"What does the red mean?" Takamaru asked, looking between both Itachi and Naruto.

"Are you sure you see red and not orange?"

Takamaru shook his head and rose his hand in front of his face. "Nuh-uh, I'm orange. They're red."

"Red is the colour of energy and strength, often driving a person forward or boosting them with energy. Orange allows for insight and concentration – common for one who can see the auras of others."

Upset at having run out of options, and Takamaru had noticed that no one's colours were changing (unlike some people from the market he once observed, when he had been fascinated with the sight he was granted, unaware then that it was not the proper sight of the Sharingan), Takamaru pouted his mouth and huffed. No one in the room seemed capable of helping. His talent, though accepted, was useless to Masaru.

Struck by a sudden thought, Takamaru scrambled out of his mother's lap – much to her objection – and walked over carefully to the lady Haruchi, by Masaru's bedside. Smiling, she lifted him atop the bed when he came close enough and watched with careful hope as he stared hard at Masaru's heart and clutched at his brother's cool hand. She gently patted his head; it was often harder to view the colour of someone's Thought when they weren't actually _thinking_.

"It's white," he said, convinced in his conclusion after a times passing.

Haruchi Maki's smile fell a bit. "A blessing," she explained, "one for rest and peace of mind. It would be undoubtedly helpful if he were aware enough to focus his Thought. Unfortunately…" she trailed off; no one needed her to spell out Masaru's condition.

The room fell into silence. Was there no one who naturally possessed the Thought of healing? After a forlorn moment, Haruchi gently went on to explain that while none possessed a light of perfect fit, all their lights could still be of help, particularly if they concentrated to transform them into what was needed. True, all of that would have been done much easier if someone with the natural colouring could channel their thoughts, wishes, and prayers for them using the force of their deepest Thought but they would have to make do by converting them on their own.

It was about this time when a timid tapping fell on the door. Pulling it back, Naruto was addressed by the young and nervous nurse. "Forgive my intrusion Hokage-sama. It was just that… We weren't sure what else could be done and… Well, what I mean is… She was just _so_ insistent that we…" Sighing roughly, then blushing in embarrassment at having made such a noise in front of the village leader, the woman quickly pushed forward that which had been ducked behind her skirted legs and fled down the hallway, leaving the thing to tumble into Naruto's reliable arms.

The thing raised a head of pink hair and brushed off her small yukata of purple dragonflies. Her black orbs were brave but her shaking posture betrayed her fear. It was none other than the final sibling of the Uchiha children: Kona Uchiha.

Rather than greet her like he expected, everyone turned to Takamaru, the same question burning in all their eyes. Only Kona's eyes were active, searching the room and its occupants before resting on the same person that had captured all of their attention. Realization dawned on him, as he stared at his newly arrived sister and she jumped slightly, his eyes still coloured light green.

Turning to the woman beside him, Takamaru simply offered, "Kona's fire is purple."

Haruchi Maki smiled brightly. In the end, this family always came through for each other.

**Current Status: Proven**

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Thanks for reading! I really don't have much to say... Oh, Happy 2012 everyone! =D<strong>


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